


The Perfect Ending

by Wicked_Wayward_Warrior



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Miscarriage, Pregnancy, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:14:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24011881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wicked_Wayward_Warrior/pseuds/Wicked_Wayward_Warrior
Summary: This is the end. Jazzy, a witch and Dean’s longtime girlfriend, runs through Stull Cemetery trying to stop Sam and Dean Winchester from giving Chuck the ending that he wants so badly. They thought there was only one way to save the world from Chuck’s wrath, but Jazzy hopes that news of a better ending will convince them to keep fighting for themselves and their family.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Original Female Character(s), Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester





	The Perfect Ending

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is something I just wrote this morning after having a terrible nightmare about an ending where Sam and Dean both die. My brain hates me and makes me dream stuff like this, so I figured I’d try to put it into a quick little fic. PLEASE pay attention to the warnings. I tried not to go into too much detail (this is based on a character/story I’ve been working on for ten years, but is kind of important to tell this story) Tell me what you think! As always, be gentle. 💜

I ran. Exhaustion had it's hooks in me, making my muscles feel tired and my mind a fuzzy haze, but I couldn't stop running. Before they made this stupid decision to give up, to give in to Chuck's stupid plan, they needed to know. They needed to know what they were leaving behind.

Part of me was afraid that it wouldn't be enough. Maybe the idea of us expanding their family was too much for them to bear and they left me anyway. Knowing how we all struggled with our childhoods, growing up with parents that couldn't love us the way we deserved to be loved, made me wonder if maybe we couldn't do any better than them.

Magic prickled the skin as it surrounded me, tiny sparkling droplets swirling through the air of Stull Cemetery. Chuck always said that it had to end where it all began, and if he was nothing else, he was a writer that lived for drama and poetic parallels. Just this once, I needed him to be wrong.

It can't end like this. 

As I forced my legs forward, Sam and Dean came into view and it took every bit of magic flowing through my veins to keep myself going. Their cheeks were red and purple with bruises and blood, and their knees were digging burrows in the dirt. Their pained gazes were fixed on each other, so neither of them saw me running toward them.

As I got closer, my anxiety ramped up. They each held a blade in their hands, the pointed ends aimed at their brother's chest. Dean held the demon blade, his knuckles turning white around the handle, and Sam held the angel blade. I could see them shaking their heads, but I couldn't make out what they were saying to each other.

“This is my story, dammit,” Chuck screamed. I looked around, trying to find him, but all I could see was grass and shattered grave markers. “It ends how I say it ends!”

Locating Chuck would have been great, but he wasn't my priority. Yes, he was God. Yes, he was a writer of this story, but what writer tried to stop his characters from following their own paths. Once, he said that was what he loved most about Sam and Dean, _my_ Sam and Dean. They didn't believe in fate or destiny; they fought for what they believed in, and they unabashedly believed in each other. 

They would never make the decision to kill each other. Never. Chuck was making them do this, and there was no doubt in my mind that if they knew they had something to fight for, that they would. I knew them. I loved them. I just needed to remind them of that.

“Dean! Sam!” I called out to them over the winds whipping around us. By their lack of reaction, I knew that they didn't hear me, didn't see me. I needed to get closer. 

I pulled on my magic. I visualized myself reaching deep down I to the wells of ancestor all magic buzzing through me. I imagined it filling my legs, pushing me farther and faster. I thought of the red ribbons that made up my connection to my coven, to my sister, to my mother, to all the women that brought me here to this moment. I thought of the darkness of their skin, kissed by the sun, and soothed by the moon. I thought of the oceans and rivers that coursed through their veins and the branches from trees reaching toward the sun from the tight coils of their hair. 

Each of them on their own was a goddess in her own right, but together...

Magic, my magic, jumped from the pores of my skin, sparkling with purple light, propelling me forward. “Sam! Dean!” I called them again, and this time they turned to face me. 

Their eyes were glassy and red with tears and it broke my heart into tiny pieces that threatened to end me right there and then, but I couldn't stop pushing. 

“Jazzy?” Sam said my name like he couldn't believe that I was real. There was no telling what Chuck had put them through, made them believe, and I had no time to think about that.

I kept running at them until I could feel their skin on mine. “Yes, Sam, it's me. It's me.” I had to scream so they could hear me over the gale Chuck had swirling around us. “It's me.”

Dean didn't even smile when he saw me. His mouth was turned down in a frown, rolling tears between his lips. “You shouldn't be here. You can't see this,” he said. 

I didn't stop the tears threatening to run down my cheeks, getting stuck in my throat. “Stop,” I said, pressing my palm to his cheek. I wanted to kiss him, letting him know I loved him, but there was no time. I needed him, both of them, to see what I had seen. I pressed my other palm to Sam’s stubbled cheek and felt magic pulsing through me. “Look.”

I closed my eyes as magic passed through me and into the Winchester. The vision came through in fragments, quick flashes, but I hoped it was clear to them what they would leave behind.

_There was a pregnancy test in my hand. One line meant that it was negative. Two lines meant that we were pregnant. My full lips stretched wide as I jumped up and down, my wild curls bouncing around me. In front of me, Dean’s green eyes were filled with shock. Even the scars on his cheeks and just above his eye shined with excitement. After losing a child years ago, we finally had a chance to try again; to have the family we always hoped to have._

_Sam and Cas were finishing up a phone conference with the hunters working a case in Michigan. Since heaven and hell were boarded up, there were no angels or demons to chase down, but that still left the monsters. Hunters from all over the country, all over the world looked to Sam and Dean for leadership, and they stepped up, turning the bunker into the command center than it was always meant to be._

_Dean and I walked in through the garage, beaming with excitement. I'd commandeered all of Dean's flannels; they were the only ones that could fit me appropriately since my stomach was this massive planet. Sam asked how the appointment went and I slammed the ultrasound images down on the table. Sam and Cas examined them and looked up at us, bewildered. We were having twins._

_After several nights without sleep, I remained in bed as the kids screamed for us. Dean rolled out of bed and met Cas in the nursery. I was so grateful to have Cas here. Not only had he been a good friend to us all, now that he was human, but he was also focused on being the best godparent our kids could have._

_Sam pulled his hair into a low ponytail full of graying hair and gel that kept it slicked back. He kept shifting the weight on his legs and fighting with the tie Dean tied for him around his neck. He was nervous, but the happiness in his eyes filled my heart in a way that nothing else ever could. He and Eileen deserved each other, and they deserved this. As the first note strummed from the organ, I watched as Eileen followed the twins down the aisle, her white dress trailing behind her._

“No! Stop!” Chuck called. My eyes flew open and I followed his voice to the other end of the cemetery. “That is not how my story ends!”

My hand remained on their cheeks, filtering the vision into their minds, but I stood, confronting Chuck. “Chuck, this isn't your fucking story! This is our lives! You can't make them do this!”

He flashed a sinister grin, the kind that made an eerie chill run down my spine. “Yes. Yes, I can.”

He snapped his finger and sent me flying backward, knocking into a tall headstone. My back ached and whined from the pressure of the impact and I clutched my stomach, hoping that the force didn't hurt them. If Chuck took my children away again...

My vision was blurred when I looked up, but it quickly fixed itself as I saw Chuck towering over my boys. “You keep thinking you're the ones in control, but you aren't! You are my creation! And when I say you're done, you're done!”

I called out to them, screaming, but it didn't matter. I was too late. 

Chuck lowered his hands on their heads and their mouths fell open. Bright streams of light spilled from their lips and eyes. Their screams were filled with anguish and pain. I tried to crawl toward them, not wanting them to die alone, but my body was weak and Chuck was...Chuck was God. 

The light swallowed their souls, chewing them, eating them until there was nothing left. When Chuck released his grip on them, their bodies collapsed on the ground like piles mechanical parts or life-sized dolls. They were in a crumpled heap, leaning forward with their heads resting on their brother's shoulder. 

Grief ripped through me, shooting through my bones. Chuck took them away from me, from our family, and for what? Just for the sake of his stupid story? For the sake of poetry? 

He walked toward me, dusting his hands. “Now that's an ending.” His chest swelled with pride and greed. My body shook as I became overwhelmed with emotions, making it nearly impossible for me to move or say anything. 

Chuck knelt down in front of me, cradling his face in his hands. “You know, Jazzy, I used to think of you as nothing. Like a side character I could use as a pawn, a thing to make them angry or bring them pain. I mean, you losing your baby was the cruelest thing I could have done to Dean. And then splitting you two up after Sam came back was just brilliant.” Chuck smiled, stroking my cheek with his finger. “And then I forgot about you. You were no longer important to me or my story.”

“Fuck you, Chuck,” I spat. I assumed he rendered my body immobile, draining every bit of magic and strength from me. 

“Turns out, this whole time, you were my greatest plot device. I mean, you getting here just in time to show them the vision the elder in your coven had. You thinking that you could win this, that you could stop them.” He chuckled, reveling in his victory. “It was brilliant. But now...”

His grip on my cheek tightened and his upbeat facade faded. I blinked and I thought I'd seen his true face. No beard or bright eyes, but true wrath, true power. True darkness. I gasped as I felt his power ripping through my body like tiny sparks of fire eating away at my flesh. I ordered my muscles to fight, to kick or claw my way from him, but it didn't do me any good. If Chuck wanted me dead, I would die. 

I closed my eyes and waited for the end.


End file.
